Holding Their Own IV: The Ascent Read Free Page A

maybe the food’s bad .
    Mike Wagner appeared shortly after Bishop’s arrival and called the group together, reminding the team once again that he was formerly of the Régiment d'Opérations Spéciales du Canada . Bishop wondered if this pretentious fuck was going to initiate a wine tasting in the middle of the meeting. Additionally, Mr. Wagner left no doubt that he was the man in charge. What followed was basically a military briefing combined with a short lecture on how to interact with any locals who may wander by—the latter consisting solely of instruction to hide and stay out of sight until further notice.
    A few minutes later, a man with a dark complexion joined the meeting and was introduced as Mr. Rostenphuse—the team’s Pakistani interpreter. The new arrival made the rounds, shaking hands and reintroducing himself in case anybody missed it the first time. The way he pronounced his name sounded like “rotten puss,” and Bishop knew immediately that that was what everyone was going to call him.
    Weapons were issued next, and Bishop was surprised to find Russian equipment being passed out. AK47s were the norm, with two of the gentlemen being issued Dragunov sniper rifles. This didn’t make Bishop happy at all, but it was soon explained that any evidence left behind could not imply Western involvement. Russian weapons, ammunition, and equipment were the norm in the Afghan countryside. Even the load gear and boots were old Soviet surplus.
    Next came the clothing, which was described as “Kamiz Shalwar,” or coat and trousers. The team members immediately set about changing out of their western duds.
    Bishop starting wishing he had passed on this trip and had instead chosen reclining on that couch in the company shrink’s office. All of these guys seemed a little odd, and nobody had mentioned using the Russian weapons. When one of the other guys grumbled about his rifle, Mr. Wagner informed everyone that there would be a class in the morning to get everyone familiar with the weapons. Wow , Bishop thought sarcastically, we get a whole day to familiarize ourselves with a completely new blaster? How nice.
    About the time the sun began to set, Rotten-puss brought out food, and the group sat around eating some sort of grilled red meat and rice. Hot, bitter tea was identified as the beverage, and everyone seemed hesitant to inquire about the origination of the entrée that completed the night’s menu. After the meal was finished, Wagner got down to operational business, laying out the details for the squad’s assignment.
    The team would receive the coordinates of any opium caravan that was discovered in the area. They woul d immediately mount up and navigate to a position in front of the target to stage an ambush. Since roads were very limited and quite dangerous in this part of the country, Wagner stressed that everyone needed to be ready for some serious walking. Great , thought Bishop, give us new, poorly fitting boots, and then tell us we will have to hike halfway across the heart of Asia. I’m going to complain to my travel agent.
    Wagner told everyone that he had an extensive supply of Russian explosives and mines. If things went according to plan, the detonations would eliminate the need for any shooting. Bishop wondered just how much ordnance this guy had, and even more importantly, he questioned the logistics of transporting massive amounts of fireworks to the ambush site. He decided to keep his mouth shut and just listen.
    Wagner ended his briefing just as suddenly as he began. Bishop was really puzzled when the man did not ask for questions at the end. Evidently, Can ucks had perfect hearing and clarity of mind, so they didn’t need to ask questions.
    The team slept in the barn on military-issued folding cots adorned with scratchy, wool blankets. As everyone settled in, a few of the men began to talk, and Bishop received a basic understanding of why some of them had volunteered. One guy was a recently